


Bedtime for Button

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [53]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Existing Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Long-Distance Relationship, phone conversation, the red nose diaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8322085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Just as Tom is turning in late on Sunday night in Queensland, Carmen is barely awake Sunday morning in Chicago.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble for T & C. I really do hope Tom returns to London soon so I have a better premise to write something longer for these two.

“Oh my god who could possibly be calling me this early on a Sunday?”

“Button, it’s me. Remember? You wanted me to call you.”

“I did?”

“So you could wish me goodnight.”

“Goddamnit.”

“Did you forget the time difference between Chicago and Queensland, darling?”

“No. Okay, yes.”

“What happened?”

“I’m hungover.”

“Oh Button…”

“Scratch that. I may still be drunk.”

“Good homecoming, then?”

“More like the Cubs won the first in the series against the Dodgers, so Annie and I may have celebrated.”

“What do you mean by celebrated?”

“Remember that stuff I told you about?  [ Malört ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeppson%27s_Mal%C3%B6rt) ?”

“No, but I think I know where this is going…”

“There were shots. At some sports bar in Wrigleyville, I’m pretty sure. There may have been burritos  [ al pastor ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Al_pastor) after.”

“Did you and Annie get home alright?”

“I think so. I am lying in her bed.”

“Where’s Annie?”

“Passed out next to me.”

“Like a couple of college girls.”

“If this were college, there’d be a dude in this bed somewhere…”

“PARDON?”

“Calm down, Sporty. Her husband and the kids must be… oh look, there’s a note taped to her forehead.  _ Took the kids to get bagels. Told them you and Car got bitten by the Malört bug. Love, Seth.” _

“That’s very funny, ‘the Malört bug.’”

“I would laugh but it hurts to move.”

“And yet you’re still capable of moving your mouth to talk to me.”

“Shuddup.”

“Flying home tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s the old alma mater? Are you simply brimming with school spirit after homecoming and all that?”

“It was lovely. The football team… actually, I don’t know how the game went. Annie and I mainly bought university swag then went to the library for a tour.”

“When you say the library, do you mean…?”

“ _ The _ library, Tom. Our library.”

“How is it?”

“Very beautiful, and so peaceful when there aren’t crazy people fighting in it.”

“Funny how that happens.”

“So how was your day?”

“Easy. I took myself out to brunch. Brought my laptop, did some work. There were some paparazzi across the road so if you wanted pictures of yours truly awkwardly eating alone…”

“Good, I was wondering what I’d put on the cover of my Christmas card this year.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“Carmen?”

“Yeah?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a black sweatshirt in your suitcase?”

“I’m actually wearing a black hoodie right now.”

“As am I.”

“Oooh! Twins!”

“Quite. Anyway, how does it fit?”

“Is that a nice way of asking if I’ve gained weight?”

“Button, no…”

“I thought we discussed this the last time we were in bed, dear. No matter how much weight I may gain, my boobs are not going to get bigger.”

“That wasn’t what I was getting at, but thank you for introducing the image of your luscious tits into this conversation.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“How does your sweatshirt fit?”

“It’s actually pretty loose. And the sleeves are a bit long.”

“You must have my sweatshirt, then.”

“I do? How do you know?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I’m wearing yours to bed right now.”

“You are?”

“They must have gotten mixed up when you were packing to leave Australia.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. In fact, I’m quite enjoying this.”

“Wearing my crummy old sweatshirt.”

“It smells like you.”

“It smells like bacon?”

“Very funny. You know it isn’t that.”

“Yes, love.”

“It smells like oranges at the neck, and something floral at the cuffs.”

“I like to mix — Penhaligon’s orange blossom behind my ears and at the crook of my neck, Blenheim Bouquet on my wrists and the crooks of my arms.”

“I remember.”

“Aw.”

“All this citrus fragrance. No scurvy for us, darling.”

“Very funny, Tom. Can’t believe I didn’t notice… I’m pulling the hood of yours over my face right now. Mmm. Smells nummy in here.”

“Does it?”

“It does, yes sir. I am very cozy. I could just go back to sleep, back to my dream where  [ Javy Baez ](http://www.nytimes.com/2016/10/17/sports/baseball/javier-baez-chicago-cubs-riveting-second-baseman.html) is letting me rub olive oil into his aching back…”

“Oh, far be it from me to keep you from that vital task!”

“Don’t be cross, baby. It’s just a dream.”

“And besides, he doesn’t have your sweatshirt, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t. Baby?”

“Yes, Carmen?”

“Is it tight? My sweatshirt?”

“Not exactly.”

“It’s not that I care so much. About being big. Fat. You know I hate the term plus-size when it comes to describing myself.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s like using ‘Oriental’ to describe people from Asia. Rugs are Oriental, people are Asian.”

“I see.”

“And I guess… I don’t know. I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Carmen?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a little snug. But, I like it.”

“Does it make your tits look bigger?”

“Be serious!”

“Alright.”

“It’s like, you’re with me. You’re hugging me. And you give the best hugs. I told you so, right?”

“You did.”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“I love you, Tom.”

“I know.”

“Asshole.”

“And please don’t bring back my sweatshirt smelling of bacon.”

“You’re such a brat.”

“What can I say, Button? I learned from the best.”


End file.
